The Most Happy
by georgiaparkinson123
Summary: A story of Henry the 8th and Anne Boleyn's romance through Anne's eyes. I'll be adding to it every week or so.


PART ONE : This is me, a young, elegant woman of 15 years, eyes and hair as dark and seductive as my temperament and personality. I have been at  
the French court for almost all my life, living the most of it with my sister Mary. She was summoned back home to England some months  
ago, and so I wait for my summons. My father will soon send word to bring me back to the increasingly most powerful court and country  
in the whole of Christendom. The king, Henry Tudor the 8th, is said to be extremely handsome, charming and witty. Although I have no  
interest in him, I hope to gain his favor so that I may make a good marriage and raise the title of my low status family. Nobody can  
say that Anne Boleyn does not know her due to her family.

My family are the Boleyn's, coming from a small hamlet to the South of London named Hever. This family has been a small, private  
yet rich one for centuries, until my father married my mother - Elizabeth Howard. The Howard family originates from  
all over the county. It is one of the most important families in the land. My uncle Howard is Duke of Norfolk and is a formidable man  
whom i greatly admire, as he is the most ambitious man I have ever known. I will show everyone at the English court what a stylish  
young woman I can be. I will strive to become a highly thought of courtier and catch the eye of a young Noble or Lord. That is the  
very cusp of my ambition.

I, at last, have my summons back to my home and the richest country in the whole of Europe - England. I stand and wait for my father,  
my most beloved, loyal father, to escort me home. As I am waiting, I muse on the thought of seeing my sister Mary again after such a  
long time. We are the best of friends, yet the deadliest of rivals, both striving for our fathers affection and to be the advantage  
to the family. In my fathers letter to me, he writes:

Daughter,

I am coming to France tomorrow and I shall bring you home with me.  
You are to have a place in the court of Queen Mary Tudor as you  
return to England. Do not think to stay in France and flirt your  
way through life. We have other plans for you. Be prepared by dawn.

Thomas Boleyn.

I knew it was pointless to ask what plans they had, I would have to wait and see. My greatest dread was that they would have a better  
marriage for Mary that for me, and that I would have to follow the hem of her gown as she swept ahead of me for the rest of my life.  
I went slowly to my bedroom after reading the letter. I had a small mirror on the wall and I gazed at my reflection. 'It'll be alright,' I whispered to myself. 'I am a Boleyn, that's not a small thing to be. My mother is a Howard, that's to be one of the most  
important families in the land. I am destined for great things.' I smiled and my empty, courtiers pretty face smiled back. 'I am a Boleyn, a Howard. Nobody shall spoil this for me, not even Mary.'

-  
Me and father were delayed by spring storms and I knew, childishly, that Mary would be hoping my boat would sink and I drown. I would not have felt and different if i were in her position. Yet at the thought of my younger sister's death, I felt a confusing pang of distress and relief. There could hardly be a world for me without Mary, there was hardly world enough for us both.  
In any case, I arrived safely enough. I saw her peak out over the Queen's windows to see me walking with our father from the Royal landing stage up the graveled path towards the palace. I knew that she had seen the stylish cut of my cloak and how it swirled around me. I felt a wave of triumph at the thought of the pure envy that would have no doubt swept through her.  
I planned that she should at first see me very much at home in the queen's richly tapestried rooms, and that I should go forwards and greet her, very grown up and gracious. But when the doors opened and I came in, I heard her cry out, "Anne!" and she ran to me, her skirt swishing. And I, who had came in with my head very high, and my arrogant dark look darting everywhere, stopped being a grand young lady of fifteen years and threw out my arms to her  
"You're taller," I said breathlessly, my arms tight around her, my cheek pressed to hers.  
"I've got such high heels." She inhaled my skin - soap, rosewater essence and lavendar.  
"You all right?"  
"Yes, you?"  
"Bien sur! How is it? Marriage?"  
"Not too bad. Nice clothes!"  
"And he?"  
"Very grand. In high favor with the king."  
"Have you done it?"  
"Yes, ages ago."  
"Did it hurt?"  
"Very much!" I pulled back to read her face.  
"Not too much," she qualified. "It's just rather awful really."  
My scowl melted away and I couldn't help but giggle. "How is it awful?"  
"He pisses in the pot, right where I can see!"  
I collapsed in a wail of laughter. "No!"  
"Now girls," my father said, coming up behind me. "Mary, take Anne and present her to the queen."  
At once she turned and lead me through the press of ladies in waiting where the queen was sitting. "She's strict," Mary warned me. "Its not like France."  
Katherine of Aragon took the measure of me with a clear blue eyed sweep. I only felt a pang of hope that she would prefer me to my sister.  
I swept the queen an immaculate french curtsey, and came up as if I owned the palace. I spoke in a voice rippling with that seductive accent, my every gesture was that of the french court. I noted with dread that queens frosty response to my stylish manner. Mary drew me to a window seat. "She hates the French. She'll never have you around her if you keep that up." I shrugged. "They're the most fashionable. Wether she likes them or not. What else?"  
"Spanish?" she suggested. "If you have to pretend to be something else."  
I let out a snort of genuine laughter. "And wear those hoods! She looks as though someone stuch a roof over her head."  
"Shh!" Mary said reprovingly. "She's a good woman."  
"She's an old woman," I said cruelly. "We have no time for the Spanish."  
"Who's we?" Mary asked coldly. "Not us English?"  
"Les francias!" I said irritatingly. "Bien sur!" I am all but french now."  
"Your English born and bred, just like George and me." Mary said flatly. "And I was brought up at the french court like you. Why do you always have to pretend to be something different?"  
"I have to do something which catches the eye, which singles me out. I am going to be French."  
"So you pretend to be something your not?" She said disapprovingly.  
I gleamed at her and my green eyes measured her in a way that only I could do. "I pretend no more and no less than you do. My little milk and honey golden sister." I said quietly.  
She met my eyes, her lighter gaze into my dark, and I knew that I was smiling her smile, that she was a light mirror to me. "Oh that," she said, still refusing to acknowledge a hit.  
"Exactly," I said. "I shall be dark and French and fashionable and difficult and you shall be sweet and open and english and a pair we shall be. What man could resist us."  
She laughed, I could always make her laugh. We both heard the kings hunt returning.  
"Is that the king on his way? Is he as handsome as they say?" I asked.  
"He's wonderful, he really is. Oh! I cant tell you!"  
"Will he come here now?"  
"Probably, he always comes."  
I glanced dismissively to where the queen sat. "Cant think why."  
"Because he loves her."  
I raised a perfectly arched eyebrow and prepared myself.  
The king then entered, a tall man with golden wavy hair, and a babies round handsome face, and laughed with the boistrous joy of an indulged young man. As he went to greet the queen, his companions followed him. My brother, George Boleyn, came in first, checked on the threshold at the sight of me, his pleasure hidden behind his handsome courtiers face, and bowed low over the queens hand.  
She smiled at his bent, dark curly head. "You may greet your sister."  
"Mary is here?" George asked indifferently, as if he had not seen us both.  
"Your other sister, Anne." She indicated that the two of us should step forward. George swept us a bow without moving from the prime place near the throne.  
"Has she changed much?" the queen asked.  
George smiled. "I hope she will change more with you before her eyes."  
The queen gave a little appreciative laugh and waved him towards us.  
"Hello little miss beautiful," he said to me.  
I regarded him from under my dark eyelashes. "I wish I could hug you," I said.  
"We'll go out as soon as we can," George decreed. "Your looking well Annamaria."  
"I am well," I said. "And you?"  
"Never better."  
"Whats little Mary's husband like?" I asked curiously, watching William Carey as he bowed over the queens hand.  
"She's done well. Did you know you were brought home to be married, Anne?"  
"Father hasn't said who."  
"I think your to go to Ormonde." George said.  
"A countess," I said with a triumphant smile to Mary.  
"Only Irish," she rejoined at once.  
Mary's husband caught sight of us, and and then raised an eyebrow at my intense provocative stare. The king sat on his throne and looked around the room.  
"My dear Mary Carey's sister has joined our company. This is Anne Boleyn." the queen said.  
"George's sister?" the king asked.  
My brother bowed. "Yes, your majesty."  
The king smiled at me. I dropped him a curtsey straight down, as i had been taught, head up, and a small challenging smile on my lips. The king was not taken. He obviously didn't like women who fixed him with a dark challenging gaze.  
"And are you happy to be with your sister again?" he asked Mary.  
She looked flushed as she came up from her curtsey. "Of course, your majesty," she said sweetly. "What sister would not long for the company of a sister like Anne?" I could feel myself blushing.  
Henry looked from her to my slightly quizzical expression and then he got the joke and laughed aloud. He paid a compliment to my sister about her blonde hair, but I hardly heard anything. I was too busy keeping my composure. All of a sudden everyone started laughing at the kings jest and I joined in. We would have been fools to do anything but laugh at the kinds pleasantry.  
The musicians played a chord, and I stood back to watch the king of England dance with my younger sister. She smiled at me sweetly as she saw my envious eyes as she danced past me in the kings arms.


End file.
